My Last Breath
by melz the great
Summary: She never forgave herself for leaving him broken and alone and now she needs to make peace with the ghosts of her past. Somehow she must find salvation if her soul is ever to reside in heaven.
1. Everlasting Fire

"Madame de Changy you have a visitor"

Christine sat idly on the large sofa that graced the furnishings in the sitting room. A cup of hot tea was rested in her hands and she took a small sip before answering her maid.

"Please escort them in, Agnes, thank you."

Christine didn't like to think of the servants as servants, she preferred to consider them more as friends. The thought of having someone have to do all of the things she wished gave her a peculiar feeling. She felt she was completely unworthy of such treatment.

She raised her head as she heard footsteps approach the sitting room. Her face spread into a kind smile at the sight of the blond haired beauty that had entered.

"Good Morning, Madame." she said politely

Christine nodded in recognition and motioned for her guest to be seated beside her. Without another word Agnes left the room. Agnes knew that it was not proper for her to be in rooms when her masters had guests.

"Dear Helen, It is such a pleasure to see you. Are you well?" Christine asked, her voice dripping in extreme formalities.

Helen nodded quickly, causing her blue eyes to sparkle in the dim light that entered through the window.

Christine smiled. Helen was a fine girl, with plenty of talent as well.

After Christine's career at the Opera Populaire had...come to an end. She had run with Raoul to a city just outside of Paris. She ran away from her pain and fear, she ran away from her past. Christine didn't want to face the morbid facts that made up her pathetic life. Raoul and Christine had been married as quickly as possible and Christine couldn't have been happier for the both of them. But she found that because everything had now started to become supplied for her she was being driven into a state of insanity. All her life she had to care for herself and make things happen and all of sudden she didn't even have to stand to fetch herself a cup of tea.

Christine had begged Raoul to let her work. Raoul had taken the suggestion as complete idiocy. But Christine persisted and Raoul found that he loved his wife too selflessly to refuse.

So she had joined the local Opera House. It was no where i near /i as extravagant as her former home, but Christine found its oddities made it irresistibly charming. Christine took on the job of assistant to the ballet mistress. Traditionally, there was no such job but the ballet mistress that worked there seemed thrilled at the prospect that a person as high in society as Christine would even consider being her aide.

The arts had always been a part of Christine's life and they were so much a part of her that she couldn't give it up completely. She didn't sing. Call it stupidity or complete cowardice but she couldn't bring herself to sing a note. She was afraid what she may find, what she may i feel /i if she let her clear voice dance through a composition.

But she still had the art of the ballet.

Christine had originally feared that all the years that she had gone dance less would interfere with the path that she chose for herself to take. But the many years she spent with the corps de ballet proved their worth.

Helen was one of her students.

Terribly naive and unaware of her own talent was she and Christine had felt an automatic understanding towards the girl. Christine knew that Helen could have a future in the ballet; all she had to do was stop holding back.

"The reason I came to call, Madame, was to enquire as to if you were returning to rehearsals tomorrow. I must confess we are terribly lost without you. Madame Amedee is in a state of complete panic. She fears that we are not ready for the performance in a month's time." Helen said earnestly.

Christine smiled slightly and took another sip of her tea. The drink had long since become cold but she still felt an unexplainable impulse to drink it.

"I **will** be returning tomorrow actually, I've been away for far too long and am anxious to return."

"Oh how wonderful!" Helen exclaimed, standing up to leave, "I won't disturb you for any longer Madame de Changy. But really, you are an angel."

_Come to me angel of music_

Christine's hand shook slightly as the melody ran through her head. She had been someone else's angel once, someone who needed her more then anything in the world.

Oh! God's angels were watching down on her with utmost contempt!

"Thank You"

Helen flashed Christine an attractive smile before departing from the household and she was left alone.

Christine forced the tea down her throat. She ignored the icy cool that had wiped away all of its warmth and comfort.

"My dear are you alright? You look awfully pale."

Christine raised her eyes and found her husband in the doorway. He was dressed impeccably. His expensive suit tailored to fit him exactly to his measurements and his bright brown hair had bounciness, a body to it that Christine had never noticed before.

"No, Raoul. I am fine." she said quietly.

He flashed a small smile as his eyes shone with an emotion that Christine could not name. It was something that was dangerously close to being pity.

"I'm sorry to leave you here all by yourself, but I must go. Things are getting terribly out of order with my aunts funds and I must assist her."

"Of course Raoul. Really it's alright; I'll find a way to entertain myself."

He smiled and walked over to her. Silently he sat himself beside her and Christine met his eyes.

"I'll be back soon."

Christine nodded wordlessly and Raoul leaned towards her, placing a soft kiss upon her forehead. Christine closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. He smelled of crisp linen and cologne.

Christine couldn't help but be a little unhappy with the lack of activity that she had for the day. Perhaps she would have a nice chat with Agnes, or catch up on her reading. Anything to keep her mind off more important things.

Anything to keep her from remembering.


	2. No More Memories

Christine woke suddenly in the early hours of the morning to a loud bang from outside in the hallway. She sat up like a shot, and pulled the blankets from her body. Subconsciously noting that Raoul was not lying beside her. She opened the door that lead out of her lavish bedroom and peered into the hall, Raoul stood there looking very apologetic.

"Christine, love, I am so sorry if I woke you." he said.

Christine smiled slightly and shook her head.

"No Raoul, It's perfectly fine. I have to get ready for rehearsal anyhow."

Raoul nodded and picked up the large box that he had dropped and began to stagger unevenly down the stairs. Christine watched him for a moment before slipping back into her bedroom and reaching for her clothes for rehearsals.

The ballet was not remarkably strong at the Opera House. Not like it had been at the Opera Populaire. At the Opera Populaire they had moved so gracefully all together in synchronized motions. Christine remembered being able to feel what every single other dancer was doing. If one made a mistake, it was at the risk of everyone else. She missed it. She realized with a small sigh. She missed the simple life of a dancer. She missed the friends she had made.

Christine hadn't seen or heard from Meg in years. After the incident at the Opera House she hadn't made much effort to keep in touch. It was something that she fiercely regretted. But something's just can't be changed.

Christine sat herself down in front of the large mirror by the bedside, now fully dressed. She grabbed the pins from a small ornate musical box and began to pin her hair up in a bun. For, if her students were to learn discipline then she must radiate it. It was something that Madame Amedee had taught her.

She slowly stood and span around in front of the mirror. Christine made sure that she had checked every angle of herself before leaving the room. She had been away from her occupation for too long and she needed to make a good impression on her return.

Christine ate a hurried breakfast and kissed her husband goodbye before embarking out in the cold December winds. She pulled her scarf around her neck tightly, hoping to block out the fierceness of the weather. But it still hit her full force. The cold was absorbed into her very bones, causing her to begin to shiver.

A few minutes later her carriage pulled to a halt outside the modest Opera House. Christine thanked the driver and entered the building. Immediately the heat from it coursing through her veins.

"Madame de Changy! Madame de Changy!"

Christine turned her head to face the loud shouts of two young girls. Both of their mops of hair were styled in twisted buns and they wore their regulation practice tutus. Christine smiled at the young girls as they approached.

"Yes?" she enquired softly.

"Oh, we are so glad you could come! Madame Amedee is getting very overwhelmed again. Please, you must come at once."

Christine nodded and briskly began to follow the girls into the theatre. The sight of it causing her mouth to open a little in shock.

When she left she had been assured that when she returned, the production would be almost completed and that the absence of a staff member would cause no damage. Madame Amedee had told her with complete confidence that she had no need for her assistant, especially so close to the performance date.

But obviously they needed all of the help that they could get. The ballet corps was practicing through their routine on the stage. They looked very confused and were dreadfully out of sync. They kept bumping into each other and turning opposite directions form the rest of the group. The principal actors stood in front of the dancers, practicing through various arias and compositions. Stagehands were running around the stage. On their way, bumping into various dancers causing them to make even more mistakes. Half-finished sets lay hanging from the walls and the entire orchestra was grumbling about all of the changes in the orchestrations.

Christine's eyes scanned over the scene, trying to make sense of the confusion that was taking place in front of her. She then noticed Madame Amedee screeching orders at the poor ballet dancers that were trying so hard to please her.

"NO! GABRIELLE, YOU MUST POINTE YOUR TOES ON YOUR ARABESQUE! CHANTAL! NO, CHANTAL YOU MUST PLIEẾ BEFORE YOU DO YOUR PIQUẾ TURNS!"

Christine walked over to her mentor and gave a friendly smile.

"Madame Amedee, do you need any assistance?"

Madame Amedee turned to face Christine and her face broke out into a large grin.

"Oh Christine! I am so happy you have returned. I expect your small vacation suited you well."

Christine nodded. "Oh yes, very much so. Raoul and I had a...pleasant time."

Madame Amedee nodded "Good, that's good. But I'm afraid that the vacations over and now you must help me sort out this wreck of a ballet!" she exclaimed clasping her hands around her head in frustration.

Christine nodded and ordered the girls to stop. She wandered around and gave them pointers on how to hold their arms or hold their centers.

"Alright everyone, from the beginning."

They went through the number over and over again, taking all the necessary precautions to make sure that their dance was perfect by the end of rehearsal. Finally Madame Amedee nodded, satisfied with the progress that they had made.

"Very Good Girls!" she exclaimed "We'll pick this up tomorrow morning make sure that you..."

"Excuse me," interrupted a stocky man with an abnormally large nose "But I have some terrible news."

Worried murmurs passed through the entire cast of the Opera. Christine glanced back and forth trying desperately to figure out what the problem could possibly be.

"I am Monsieur Bernard. I am the new patron of the Opera House. I know I haven't made an appearance before now but I regret to inform you that...Mademoiselle Lemieux is bedridden." he continued, closing his eyes in mock sorrow.

A wave of shock and panic went through the mass of people who were listening to his proclamation.

"But, But Mademoiselle Lemieux," began Helen her face painted with worry "She will be back in time to sing for the Opera right? I mean, she's the lead part!"

"I'm sorry to say that she has received the dreadful sickness of laryngitis and will not be recovered in time for the performance."

Madame Amedee let out a small squeal of shock and sat herself down on one of the audience chairs. Christine's eyes widened in shock.

"What of the understudy?" someone asked

"No," said Madame Amedee, looking as if she might faint at any moment "Impossible. Mademoiselle Lemiuex's understudy is with a child. She is to be giving birth around the time of the performance."

"What should we do Monsieur?" asked Helen looking to where their director Monsieur Clément.

Monsieur Clément ran his hands through his thinning hair.

"We shall have to cancel the performance and shall have to refund the house. Unless of course there is someone else who would be able to sing it."

_Christine Daeé could sing it sir_

Christine could hear the familiar music to the aria "Think of Me" playing in the background. She could feel the nervousness that had overwhelmed her at that point in time. The stares of all of the cast and crew at the Opera House were burning into the back of her neck but when her cue came she opened her mouth to sing. The clarity of her voice rung throughout the theatre and she could hear the impressed murmurs of her fellow cast mates from behind her. Then suddenly the room was full of wealthy people. Wealthy nobility. They watched her with faint smiles on their faces and as Christine reached the end cadenza and hit each note flawlessly they roared with applause and stood on their feet. Throwing flowers at her feet. Christine felt her heart accelerate and her face was painted with a genuine smile. She couldn't wait to perform again and she couldn't wait to hear if her angel had thought it satisfactory. That was the night that she had been thrust into the spotlight.

That was the night that she found that her angel was no more than a man.

"Helen can sing it sir," Christine's own voice shook her from her thoughts.

Helen turned to look at her with a shocked expression on her face.

"I can?"

"Yes you can. I have heard you sing Mademoiselle Lemieux's aria. You have a beautiful voice."

"But she is a chorus girl; don't be ridiculous she does not have the training to lead an Opera"

Christine turned to face their director.

"She has the talent. I know what it's like to carry an Opera; I'll tutor her on all of the pieces. Monsieur Clément, we either take this chance or watch the Opera that we have been working so hard on be forgotten."

Monsieur Clément considered her for a moment and nodded.

"Very Well...Madame de Changy you will tutor her. But keep in mind how close the performance is. We'll have to extend each rehearsal."

A soft murmur of acceptance waved through the multitude and Christine's heart was hammering in her chest. A forlorn melody replaying itself mockingly again and again in her mind.

_If you ever find a moment, stop and think of me_


	3. Angels Weep

Raoul sat alone in his study, a small glass of water resting in his hands. He wasn't the type of man to drink and prided himself in that quality. After all he had everything he could hope for. He had a substantial amount of money, power and a lavish amount of belongings that he could really get by without. He was titled, had many servants to do his bidding and came from a family that was virtually scandal free. But the thing that Raoul prided more then any of those things was his wife. His darling wife. No, he didn't just pride in her. He loved her so selflessly that people assumed that they must have martial issues they were hiding. This wasn't true...not really.

Of course when they wed all of the controversy surrounding the Opera House affair followed her and thus plagued the family. Oh yes, word got out about Christine's mysterious confrontations with the infamous Opera Ghost but he hadn't cared. Nothing could make him think less of her. Even his own family had accepted that she would come with scandal. They accepted his choice and loved her like she was their own daughter.

Christine did not come from a good background in the material things and any other wealthy nobleman wouldn't have given her a second glance. But Raoul knew her from many years ago and seeing her again at the Opera Populaire...it was something that he could only describe as fate. Christine was the most beautiful, radiant woman that Raoul had ever seen and she had chosen him.

Raoul loved her more then anything. But he couldn't pretend not to notice that she was in no way the girl that he fell in love with all those years ago. Sometimes Raoul was so overcome by her morbid moods he would have a moment of complete anger and frustration. Something he wasn't used to experiencing. For he was a levelheaded man and didn't tend to act irrationally.

Raoul was jarred from his thoughts as he heard the front door slam shut. He stood and walked to the door knowing instinctively that it would be Christine there to greet him.

"Welcome home." he said joyfully, his face twisting into a boyish grin.

Christine gave him a weary smile and allowed him to bend over and kiss her hand tenderly.

"Hello Raoul,"

"How was the Opera my dear?"

Christine's mind was instantly swimming in the stressful day that she had endured, consisting of falling dancers, yelling orders, recasting, longer rehearsals, finishing sets...the mere thought of it all gave her a headache. But it was worse because now she had to tutor Helen.

Christine had absolutely nothing against Helen but the thought of coaching her to sing shook her in a way that even she herself couldn't understand.

"It was pleasant Raoul. I do enjoy my work." she said finally. Christine was too tired to get into all of the stresses of her day. "Did you straighten everything out with Josephine then?"

"Yes, almost" Raoul said, obviously very proud of himself for helping his aunt "Her child will be born in mere days Christine can you believe it?"

Christine shook her head. "It's a very exciting time"

"Indeed it is."

They were boated by a gulf of piercing silence. Raoul was suffocating in it and begging for forgiveness and it just made Christine feel drained of all the energy she had been carrying through the day. Raoul just felt as though they were on opposite sides of the world and at the moment, no matter how loud he called to her, there would be no response from his wife.

"Have you got a dress yet?" he asked politely, praying that the silence would end.

"A dress?" Christine said wrinkling her nose "Whatever for?"

Raoul let his mouth fall open whilst letting out a breath of laughter "Whatever for?" he repeated "Only for the dinner party that we are hosting tomorrow night."

Christine watched him carefully her mind buzzing with some recollection of him _ever_ mention a dinner party. Raoul watched her carefully, waiting for that look of realization to cross her face. For her to apologize and confess that she, indeed, did have a dress for the occasion and it was hanging in her upstairs wardrobe.

"I don't recall you mentioning it, but what's wrong with the dresses I have now?" she asked curiously

"Well, nothing...I suppose. No nothing, I just...I just thought that you may want to buy a new one...that's all." Raoul stuttered, feeling utterly baffled.

"No," she answered quietly "I think I'd like to wear one of my own."

Raoul nodded slowly and his mind was trying hard to figure out something that he could say. Something to lift her spirits, something to restore all that had been lost.

But nothing came.

"I have talked to Agnes and she is willing to prepare a grand meal for the two of us. I figure that we have been eating separately for the past few nights that it would be nice to eat together." he said, his face radiating his genuine joy at the thought of eating a private dinner with his wife.

Raoul had visions of it. She would enter the dining room in one of her expensive gowns that he had provided for her and look absolutely stunning. They would sit down to dinner and talk about _everything_. From business, to love, to whims and fantasies and gardens. Everything they could think of. They would talk and laugh and eat and perhaps afterwards retreat to the sitting room and sit by the crackling fire and talk some more. Raoul couldn't help but smile at the lovely thoughts. That was what he wanted.

"Oh Raoul, I'm so sorry. I can't tonight. I have to return to the Opera House to teach a student...more steps and perfect her...ballet movements."

Why was just telling him that she was tutoring her to sing and be the lead part so hard?

Raoul's face dropped noticeably but tried to hide it by letting out a large, very fake cough that caused Christine to jump.

"Well, right. That's alright Christine perhaps another time."

She nodded. "Perhaps. If you don't mind I'm going to retire and rest my mind for tonight."

Raoul nodded helplessly and Christine hesitated slightly before giving him a soft kiss on the forehead and departing up the winding staircase. Raoul stood in his place for quite sometime. Allowing all the thoughts to consume him.

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_

Oh how those days seemed to be eons ago! He still remembered the softness of her face as he caressed it. He could still remember her crystal clear voice telling him the dark secrets of her disappearance. He could still recall how she smelled, how her hair shone and how wonderfully sweet her lips had been.

He loved her then.

He loved her still.

He would do anything to make her happy, anything to make her smile. For her smile was more precious then anything on the face of the earth and somehow, someway he was going to get her to smile again.

No matter what it took.

* * *

"Madame de Changy I don't think I can do it! I can't, I just can't! With all of those people watching me, with all those people _judging_ me. How on earth am I going to actually _sing_?"

Christine watched her pupil pace the stage in complete panic. The sight humored her slightly for she was well aware of the pressures of being the star. Especially when you weren't expecting it.

"Calm now Helen, you will be fine! The performance is in a months time, a _months_ that is long enough for you to learn **two** lead roles. Now please can we stop being so hysterical and get down to work here."

Helen paused her ranting and stared at her teacher curiously for a second before sighing in defeat.

"Good," Christine said satisfied "Now from the beginning of the aria please."

"What?" asked Helen, her voice rising in panic "Which one? Are there more then one?"

"There is only one aria for you in the first act... You know that now sing."

Christine couldn't help but let her voice be condescending and strict. She was used to dealing with students.

_"Angels weep for you..."_ sang Helen timidly.

"No. Stop, try again with more confidence Helen, really you're good and you know it. Again."

Helen took a deep breath and began again only slightly louder then the time before.

_"Angels weep for you"_

"Stop. You're going flat on that high note. Again"

_"Angels weep..."_

"Almost Helen, you're close. Watch your breathing. Really it's almost there but you can't take a breath before weep. Again."

_"Angels..."_

"Stop. You have to hit that not head on. No wavering."

_"Ange..."_

"Stop," Christine said again running her hands through her curly hair "You have to hit that note. Again."

Helen closed her eyes tightly and then sang. _"Angels weep for..."_

"Close Helen. But not there quite yet. Take this one home and work on it. We must move on"

"Oh!" Helen said throwing her arms up into the air "It's impossible! I can't do it!"

"Yes you can." said Christine firmly as she flipped through the score.

"I didn't know you could be so strict Madame de Changy."

"Whatever do you mean?" Christine asked distractedly.

"I didn't get past the first line."

"Well, we need to strive for perfection. Or as close as we can get. Helen I know you can do this. I know you can."

"Can you sing it for me?"

Christine's hand froze and her heart ceased to beat. Her student watched her intently with a silent pleading. Her mind battled back and forth with itself. She couldn't sing, she _couldn't_ but it **would** help her student reach her full potential...

"I have to admit Helen that I am terribly out of practice."

"Oh I don't care! I am really not getting the technicalities of this song."

Christine stared at her for a long moment before nodding slowly. She could taste her heartbeat in her throat as she resolved the issue internally.

"Very well..." Christine took a deep breath and imagined the introduction of the song.

"Angels weep for you..."

Christine soared through the song; she tried not to notice anything that could be potentially wrong with what she was singing. She closed her eyes and felt herself tremble as the familiar sensation of the notes radiating out of her body overwhelmed her. Her crystal clear tone echoed through the empty theatre, spreading the song through each seat, each corner and each possible place it could reach.

Christine's voice climbed higher and higher and she feared that she would be so out of practice that she wouldn't be able to hit the last note. But she did. Almost flawlessly.

The song finished and Christine opened her eyes. Her heart felt as though it would burst and a genuine smile crossed her features. The empty audience seemed to be spinning with applause and cheers. Slowly, she turned to see Helen looking at her with an amazed expression on her face.

"Madame that was...you are...that was...the most amazing thing I have ever heard you...you...I hope I can become as half as good as you are."

"Well thank you Helen but you must expect to be much better then I am."

Helen shook her head "No, I could never...You must have had the most amazing teacher. Technique like that doesn't just come...Who was your teacher Madame?"

Christine became intensely fascinated with the score on the table. She brutally fought back the tears that had formed in her eyes.

"You wouldn't know of him..."

"I know a great many teachers, please do tell me. Don't worry, I'm not thinking about replacing you..." she joked lightheartedly.

"He was...he was a...an...Angel."

Helen stared at her peculiarly and opened her mouth to ask more questions.

"That's all for today Helen, I'll see you next rehearsal."

Helen nodded and began to leave the theatre.

"Thank you Madame."

Christine nodded weakly and only when she heard the door slam shut from the entrance hall did she allow tears to roll gently down her face


	4. A Fool's Paradise

_"When we are in love we often doubt that which we most believe."  
-La Rochefoucauld_

* * *

The sun shone brilliantly in its place in the pale blue sky, slowly illuminating the barren and rocky land. The earth seemed to quiver in the intense heat t heat that was quickly spreading. Within seconds the entire long stretch of land was bathed in the sun's unforgiving rays as there were no mountains or shrubbery to direct it otherwise. It seemed that there was not a living being for miles. Only every few seconds a small creature would dart from one hole to the next, cautiously avoiding going into the sun's direct rays for too long.

But off in the distance a blurry, black figure was slowly making its way across the empty landscape. The outline staggered and swayed and looked as if it would collapse in a heap at any given moment. It was a man, tall and dreadfully underweight was he. He paused and staggered dramatically before letting his knees clash against the sandy terrain, causing small pebbles to fly out from underneath him. He let out a loud cough and placed his head in his shaking hands.

Christine found herself approaching him cautiously. Her intrigue and curiosity for the man outweighing the fear of what could happen.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, trying to ignore the rasping breaths that he was taking.

His breathing seemed so labored that Christine had the intense awareness that he could stop breathing all together.

"Sir?" she repeated again "Monsieur..."

Christine kneeled down beside him and tried to brush off some of the dirt and grime that had formed on his jacket. His face still rested in his shaking hands and Christine found herself gently taking his larger hands in her small ones.

"Sir, Are you..." she trailed off as he lifted his head to look at her. He had a dark complexion, with jet black hair.

And a white porcelain mask covering half his face.

Christine dropped his hands in shock her eyes wide with an emotion that she could not name. She could only assume it to be fear.

"It's you..." she whispered her eyes never leaving the glowing mask.

His eyes locked with hers, seemingly pleading for help. He was alone in the middle of nowhere and death was on his very doorstep and she knew that she was the only one that could save him.

"Christine..." came a clear voice from behind her.

Christine turned and saw Raoul standing behind her, dressed in his very best attire looking at her intensely.

"Come Christine we must leave...our guests are waiting..."

Chrisine watched him for a moment he seemed to be glowing in all of his glory. The expensive garnishes of the suit reflecting in the sunlight. He looked ravishing, like a handsome prince coming to save her from the horrors of the world.

Oh how she wanted to run to him!

But then she glanced behind her where the Phantom was still lying. His eyes were still burning into hers. For a moment she let herself be consumed by his intense gaze. She couldn't leave him, she had to save him. She could, she _knew_ she could. He just needed a doctor and perhaps some water. She couldn't very well just leave him!

Christine looked back and forth between the two men continuously, utter confusion filling her up completely.

Raoul shook his head slowly. "Christine, you must come with me...I love you. We must return..." he walked towards her and extended his hand.

Christine took it without a second thought. Behind her the masked man spluttered and coughed so violently that his body shook with the effort of it.

Christine paused and stared back over her shoulder. Seeing his withering figure something in her mind instinctively snapped into gear.

"Raoul stop. I have to help him..."

Christine turned over her shoulder to approach him again but found that she couldn't reach him. It seemed as if there were separated by a large glass pane.

"Christine..." he rasped desperately, his eyes flickered closed.

Christine was in a state of panic, he was dying and she couldn't do anything. She was trapped she couldn't move. She couldn't save him.

It was all her fault.

Christine's eyes flickered open quickly. She sat up in her large bed and swung her legs over the side. She was usually plagued with nightmares. Nightmares of past hardships or ones that she couldn't explain. But each one haunted her. Haunted her always and shook her to the very core.

They had never ceased since she had run with Raoul from the Opera Populaire a year previously. But it seemed to be in a whole other lifetime that she had lived there.

Christine ran a trembling hand through her hair and resolved to read to calm herself. If she could loose herself in the story of others, then maybe she could forget about her own.

* * *

"Are you excited Madame?" asked Agnes from behind her.

Christine only gave her a weak nod and let out a sharp breath as the familiar sensation of her ribs cracking overwhelmed her. Agnes finished fastening her corset and turned around to look at her entire ensemble.

"Well it seems as if it will be a very grand evening," she said passively, dusting off Christine's shoulder. "You look beautiful. I'll give you a moment."

Agnes turned and left Christine on her own. She stood in front of the mirror and took a long hard sigh.

She didn't look beautiful.

She looked like a tired old maid. Her hair hung limply from her twisted up-do, her eyes were decorated with glorious dark bags and her entire frame was too fragile to be healthy. It looked like just touching her hand would snap her in half.

Christine could hear the distant murmuring of arriving guests and the smell of delicious cuisine entered her nostrils. As mouthwatering as the scent of the cookery seemed to be it only made Christine's stomach clench in disgust. She felt terribly sick and didn't feel like anything to do with food...or other people.

She didn't fancy playing the hostess, but had been forced to play such a position on more then one occasion.

Christine exited the bedroom, not keen upon staring at her undernourished figure for any longer. Immediately Christine was surrounded with a large throng of people, they gave her friendly smiles but no one made a move to go and talk to her. Actually, if she looked closely, those friendly smiles seemed to be brimming with pity.

It was as if she had a deadly disease that they were all terrified of catching.

"Christine!"

She turned around to see who had called her name and smiled slightly as she saw Josephine, Raoul's aunt, walking briskly towards her.

"Josephine, how are you? How's the baby?" she asked politely, eyeing her large bump of a stomach.

Josephine smiled and placed a hand upon it.

"Fabulous Christine, really, this baby is probably the best thing that has ever happened to me..."

"But it hasn't even been born yet." Christine pointed out.

"I know, but I have never been happier."

Christine had to admit that Josephine seemed to glow. Her skin looked flawless and dewy and she radiated complete and utter happiness. Christine couldn't help feel a small twinge of jealously.

"Seriously Christine, This baby is such a gift to all of us. You should really be considering it darling. It's a wonderfully uplifting experience and wouldn't it be grand to have little de Chagny's running all around. They could be friends, your child and mine. Just think of it!"

Christine tried to look as if she were considering the idea at all.

She turned as she felt a hand on her arm and smiled slightly as she saw her husband smiling back.

"Sorry to intrude on your little conversation but May I steal my wife away for a moment Josephine?"

"Of course Raoul."

Christine murmured a small goodbye before allowing Raoul to pull her away from them.

"I thought we could start and direct people into the dining room."

Christine nodded and walked into it without another word. Her head pounded excruciatingly and she wanted to get the dinner over with as quickly as possible.

Raoul looked a little concerned at her sudden departure before calling out to their guests that dinner would be served.

The multitude congregated into the dining room and sat in the marked chairs. Raoul stood and caused all of the murmurs of conversations to cease.

"Welcome to our home Madame's and Messieurs. I am so very happy that you all could attend this evening. I just wanted to say that it has been far too long without seeing all of you and I hope you enjoy the..." Raoul trailed off "Christine...Christine?" he said, his voice full of concern.

The entire room was spinning and all sound was amplified in her ears. The murmurings seemed to be ripping her head apart. She blinked her eyes, furiously trying to right her vision. But the room only increased speed. She swayed slowly and barely heard Raoul's worried voice as she fell from her chair and was consumed in blackness.


	5. Fatality

_Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle.The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours._  
- Ayn Rand

* * *

Christine lay with her head propped up on the headboard of the bed. On her lap consisted a tray with a small bowl of chowder and a glass of ice cold water but Christine didn't touch it. Her eyes were glazed over and they were directed upon the wall opposite her.

She had come to on the floor after she had fainted, with the faces of everyone perched above her. She remembered Raoul's had been most prominent and the worry that had beheld his face made her heart ache, for she had been responsible for putting it there! Not just with fainting on the important night that was their dinner party, but on his very life! He was always concerned about her, or about something. It was her fault! All of it.

As soon as Raoul had seen that she was well he had quickly directed everyone out of their household. He hadn't cared about how that may look that he did so, he didn't care about all of the grumbling over the thought of a spoilt evening or the loss of a perfectly new gown. He had just carried her up to the bedroom and allowed her to rest.

For this Christine was very grateful for her head had pounded with such pain that she could hardly keep her eyes open. A large bump had since formed on her head from the place that her head had struck the floor.

Why she fainted, she wasn't sure. It wasn't an odd thing of course. Women fainted everyday from the constricting air supply they were receiving thanks to their corsets. But it had never happened to Christine before. The thought that it had made a strange sense of foreboding wash over her.

That had been two days ago.

Christine hadn't wanted to leave the comforting confines of the bedroom and had told Raoul so. He hadn't questioned her request for a second, merely telling her that she could rest until she herself told him otherwise. Her head no longer throbbed and she no longer felt woozy but a total exhaustion plagued her mind and body. It plagued her so fiercely that Christine highly suspected that she couldn't leave the bed even if she wanted to.

"Madame," said Agnes from the doorway "Your pupil has arrived."

Christine nodded and made a weak inclination that it was perfectly alright if she joined her in the bedroom. Helen appeared behind Agnes, her bright blond hair tied up in a tight bun as usual and plain beige dress clinging around her torso elegantly. She was the vision of a dancer.

"Are you well enough for our lesson Madame? I do not mind if we postpone it." she offered weakly, her eyes gliding over Christine's weakened form.

"No, don't be silly. I know that the thought of no rehearsal today scares you. I am in perfect condition for a nice rehearsal. Do come in." she gestured Helen in the door and gave Agnes a quick nod of dismissal.

"Have you been practicing the aria?" asked Christine, directing her complete attention to her student.

"Oh yes!" Helen exclaimed "I have been working so hard on it. I think I almost know it. I just have trouble hitting the last high note. For some reason I can just never reach it."

Christine nodded, mildly impressed that her pupil had taken the initiative to practice in between rehearsals.

"Sing it." she instructed softly.

Helen's eyes widened "What? What...now?"

"Yes now."

Helen looked around the room nervously as if the chairs and wardrobe may laugh at her. But she finally took a long shaky breath and began to sing.

Helen paused after the first line and glanced at Christine's form, unaware if she was going to stop her as she had done so mercifully in their previous lesson. But she did not and Helen closed her eyes and kept singing throughout the song.

Christine had to admit that Helen had a good voice, magnificent actually and that the girl had done her homework. It sounded good, with a few little errors now and then but Christine was pleased to find that there were absolutely no errors in the first line of the song.

Helen finished and stared at Christine anxiously for her judgment to be passed. Christine allowed her face to break out into a smile and nodded in acceptance.

"That was very good Helen, very good. Please now run through your exercises..."

* * *

Their lesson took up the remainder of the day. Helen worked agonizingly hard on all of the instruction that Christine pelted at her. Obviously being in a fragile state did nothing to denounce the strictness that her teacher carried.

At half past 5, Helen bid her teacher a final goodbye and left the house allowing the cold December night consume her.

Christine lay her head back on her pillow and closed her eyes, the lesson had indeed raised her spirits considerably. Helen was making excellent progress and knowing that she was teaching her brought a weird sense of pride to her heart. She would love nothing more then to see her make it on the stage and Christine was very certain that that would be so.

Her heart held a new degree of airiness and Christine had the sudden urge to venture downstairs. She suddenly felt too separated from the busyness of the household. Christine didn't like feeling separated from everyone else. It was then that her avid imagination began to trick her into thinking things, into hearing things and above all into fearing things. Christine had had it with fear.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked shockingly downstairs. The sudden weight on her legs causing them to feel a little strained. She walked into the dining hall and smiled as she saw Raoul with his head buried in the newspaper. The headline was of some dire tragedy that Christine did not want to read about but just the sight of his content face caused her heart to melt a little.

She paused in the doorway and said nothing. Just allowing the aura of peace to wash over her, her eyes didn't stray from her husbands figure.

Suddenly he looked up and smiled as he saw her standing there watching him.

"Christine! You're up! Splendid. Are you feeling better?"

"Much." she answered simply.

Raoul was just about to speak when a harsh knocking on the door caused him to rise and answer it.

Christine followed slowly behind him, mildly curious as to who would be calling on them during the supper hours.

The door opened to reveal a man that Christine didn't recognize he bowed his head to each of them in turn before beginning to speak. Christine instantly picked up on the hurried, hushed tones of his voice and it caused her heart to beat just a little faster.

"What is it?" asked Raoul apprehensively.

"It is your aunt, Josephine. She is having the baby, but all it not well."

Raoul's face paled considerably.

"What? What do you mean all is not well?"

"Her health is failing sir. I suggest you come at once to her household where the child is being born. She requested to see you."

Raoul grabbed his jacket without hesitation and began to follow the man into the dark night. Christine grabbed his arm causing him to stop walking.

"You stay here with Agnes Christine. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"No," she said quietly "I'm coming."

* * *

Christine sat in the sitting room of Josephine's household. She sat with a hot cup of tea in her hands but even though her gaze was transfixed in its murky depths she did not drink it. The man who had arrived at their house earlier that night, who had since identified himself as a dear friend of Josephine's, sat across from her. He was worriedly drumming his fingers on his leg. Christine knew that she should attempt to make civilized conversation with the man but for some reason she just couldn't think of anything remotely helpful to say.

Raoul was the Josephine's room helping it whatever way they could. Christine felt that she should be there too by her husband's side, helping save perhaps both the babe and Josephine's life but she just didn't have the courage to do such a thing. She was frightened of what she may find when she entered those doors. She was terribly frightened.

So she chose to wait in the sitting room. The man across from her had not chosen to accompany her and Christine could see that he would probably do anything to be up in that room with his friend. This ashamed Christine considerably. To think that she couldn't even bring herself to enter!

They both stiffened as they heard a baby's wails echo throughout the household. Christine relaxed considerably knowing that the baby had been born was a great comfort. They were ok and now she could return home with Raoul. Christine was longing for the comfortable realm of her bed.

Then there was silence.

Christine stood slowly as she heard footsteps echo from the staircase. Raoul appeared at the bottom of the stairs his hair dreadfully messed and his face set into a stony expression that chilled Christine to the very core.

"Raoul," she said her voice but a whisper over the loud beating of her heart "What happened?"

"There gone..." he said his voice breaking with tears "...both of them."


	6. Memento Mori

Christine stood motionless. She felt as though her very life had been sucked from her. Her heart had ceased to beat and the blood had run cold in her veins. She watched as Raoul fought back violent sobs. She watched as his shoulders shook and painful tears spluttered down his face. She watched…

But she did nothing.

A small part of her knew that she should comfort him. That she should hug him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear, that she should do all the things a proper wife should. But her brain was failing to comprehend the information that it was being fed. It refused to accept the fact that someone had passed onto the other world in a household that she had been in at the time. The thought was too gruesome to comprehend.

And the child! The dear child as lost the life that it had been given. The day it had been brought into the world was the day that if was stolen from it. Christine couldn't help but feel the indescribable urge to curse God for his lack of mercies.

Christine shook the thought from her mind instantly. All her life she had been taught that everything happened for a reason and that mere thought had kept her trudging through her wretched existence. She couldn't begin to question the only things in life that she could be sure where facts, she refused to.

Christine's eyes glazed over and she turned her head to stare at the empty staircase. She watched it with rapt interest as if the ghost of Raoul's aunt were to appear at the top of them at any given moment. Without thinking her feet began to move towards it. The staircase was beckoning her, calling to her from the darkness.

"Christine?" Raoul stuttered out through spluttering sobs.

Christine's eyes didn't veer away from the staircase. She said nothing and continued to walk towards them.

Raoul's tears dried as he began to feel an overwhelming worry for his wife. Her face was almost trancelike and she seemed to float across the hardwood floors. She walked towards the staircase as if there was something there that would be of great interest to her.

"Christine, are you alright?" he asked quietly, taking a step forward to resume his place beside her.

"I want to see her."

Christine's voice was stripped of all emotion which made Raoul feel dreadfully uneasy. Her eyes still were locked firmly on the staircase and desperately wanted her to look at him.

But he was also terrified of meeting her eyes. He was terrified to see what lay behind her haunted eyes.

Death is a funny thing after all and Raoul didn't know how Christine was going to react to it.

"My dear, I don't think that is a very wise decision. I fear the sight will…"

"I want to see her." Christine repeated, adding an edge to her voice that Raoul was not familiar with.

Raoul gave a weak nod and placed a strong hand on the small of her back to lead her up the staircase. Something strange was happening to Christine and he didn't know how to explain. He feared what would become of her if he did not oblige.

Christine's feet padded along the dark hallway. A feeling of heaviness hung around her shoulders, she felt as though she were carrying a burden that she could not rid herself of. Something that was too terrible to speak aloud, something that no one could ever know.

Josephine had died.

The Baby had died.

Christine hadn't had the courage to enter the room when they had been alive. She hadn't had the courage to help one of the people who had been so kind to her when she had entered their family, and accepted her despite her strange past. She hadn't had the courage to do all those things and she'd be damned if she didn't have the courage to say goodbye.

Christine paused hesitantly outside the large oak door. She knew that that solid door was the barrier between life and death. Raoul studied her face from beside her and it was completely devoid of all emotion.

"Are you sure Christine?"

Christine didn't reply but let the door swing open.

The room was encased in a pitch black layer; a single candle was lit on the bedside table, illuminating only a few inches around where it stood. The entire room held an atmosphere of stress and sweat, but an eerie silence pierced through Christine like a knife.

Raoul's eyes didn't stray from Christine's face.

"She's over there," he weakly gestured to the bed and his eyes were once again flecked with tears.  
Christine's eyes locked onto the form that lay beneath the covers on the bed. She lay motionless and her face was set in a straight line that was almost grim. Christine noticed that she had been cleaned up, the covers were folded beneath her arms and her hair had been brushed off her face.

Christine hesitantly knelt beside her and let her eyes trail over her lifeless figure. Her skin was such a ghostly pale white that it almost matched the color of Christine's own skin.

Raoul watched from behind her, he felt the urge to say something. To offer some comfort. But he hadn't the slightest idea what he could possibly say to make Christine feel any more at ease.

He could hardly control his own aching heart.

"Josephine," whispered Christine, her voice giving out before she could say more.

Christine raised a shaky hand and laid it atop her friends. Quickly she recoiled as the coolness passed from Josephine's to her own.

Christine felt oddly numb to the sight of a dead friend. No tears welled up in her eyes, nor did they have the desire to. Her eyes passed over the end of the bed and rested upon the wooden bassinet that lay in the corner of the room.

Raoul's eyes followed where Christine's head was angling. His heart stopped beating when he saw her stand and walk towards the bassinet. Instantly his limbs sprang into action and he was beside her. He placed a frantic hand on her should trying to force her back to the doorway.

"Christine please don't. I beg of you, it is too much. It's too horrible. Please, let us go home in peace…Christine….Christine!" Raoul pleaded, trying with all his will to force her away from the place where the baby rested.

Christine said nothing but continued to shake off her husband frantic beckoning. She stood over top the cradle and took a deep breath. She had to know. She had to know of the child that should have been born.

Christine lowered her eyes to where the body lay resting.

Her heart stopped.

Her face paled.

She saw no more.

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"Monsieur de Changy, I just came round to say I am very sorry for your loss."

Raoul looked up from his morning newspaper and gave a small smile to the solemn man that stood in his doorway.

"Good Morning Christophe, Thank you for your kind words. Josephine was very dear to me…"

Christophe nodded his head slowly and walked to sit beside Raoul.

Christophe was involved in the running of the Opera House where Christine worked. Raoul had wanted to keep an eye on Christine as she worked. He didn't want to think of it as spying. He was just very concerned about his wife's health and felt much more at ease with someone he could trust keeping an eye on her.

"How is Madame de Changy doing?" he asked quietly, noticing the lack of Christine's presence.

Raoul closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering him.

"She's coping." He said gravely before turning the conversation back into more joyful manners.

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Christine sat on the large bed that occupied the bedroom. Her eyes were fixed upon the opposite wall, and were glazed as if her mind was lost in deep thought. But no thoughts ran through the head of the once vibrant young woman.

Her stomach ached with hunger and her limbs pounded with weakness but she did not move to satisfy her cravings. She didn't eat most of the time. The mere thought of food made her feel nauseous. On many occasions Raoul had tried to get her to eat, but she always refused. Her dear husband was stubborn but he also held a great deal of respect for his wife.

That may become his undoing.

Only once had he lost his temper when she had refused to eat supper for the umpteenth time. Raoul had threatened to force feed her the bread before he would give up.

That was as bad as it had been.

Christine didn't sleep either.

She didn't like the images that stole away her mind when she did. So she resolved to not burden herself further by not sleeping. When she did sleep it was a light and uneven that only lasted for an hour at the most.

Her lessons with Helen continued to progress, though Christine did not try and fake a happy face in front of her student. She had lost all will to make a person believe something that wasn't real.

Helen's voice was progressing and the rehearsals were going smoothly. Christine enjoyed the hours she spent at the Opera House. It was the only time she got out of bed. When she returned home from rehearsals she would promptly return to the bedroom and stare into blank nothingness until it was time for Raoul to turn in.

That was how her life worked.

The performance was in a mere week.

Once that was over Christine didn't know what would happen. She had no desire to go anywhere. Her Opera House visits were based more on a sense of duty then anything else. She had told those girls that she would be there to help them prepare for the show and she couldn't bring herself to disappoint them. But after that duty had vanished she would inevitably spend all of her time in the confines of her room.

Her mind span with multiple visions and memories. They all ran together so much that Christine had a hard time distinguishing them all. They were just a blur of faces and colors. Deep reds, blacks, roses, snowflakes, bells, warmth, happiness but also an immense feeling of pain, of betrayal, of hurt.

Christine sighed and lay down on her back. Her vision fixing upon the ceiling.

She was quite sure that she would stay there for quite some time.

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The theatre was buzzing with activity. Stagehands were running to and fro, cast members where in a mad panic trying to fix their costumes or do their hair. The curtain opened in mere hours and none of them seemed to be the least bit prepared.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle!" yelled Madame Amedee running over to where her pupil was trying desperately to pull the ballet tutu over her mop of black hair.

"Yes Madame?"

"No, you must pull this up the other way. We don't want you to rip it. Here..."

Madame Amedee finished helping Gabrielle into her costume and then immediately turned away to bark orders at another group of people who were loitering by the stage.

"Don't just stand there!" she shrieked, causing the group to jump "Come now, make yourselves useful."

The group passed disgruntled glances in between one another before reluctantly walking away from their position. Madame Ameedee let out a long sigh and sank herself down into one of the theatre chairs. She put her head forward in her hands and tried to right her overactive mind.

"This performance will be the death of me."

"Madame?"

Madame Amedee looked up at the soft voice that had broken her from her troubling thoughts. Christine de Chagny stood in front of her. Her cheeks looked hollow and colorless and her hair hung limply around her shoulder. Madame Amedee couldn't help but feel a tad bit guilty about letting Christine come everyday to help her work on the show. It looked as if the poor dear needed some proper rest. But she was so desperate for help that she was glad that she hadn't stopped coming. It looked as if they would all die from the stresses of the performance.

"Thank Goodness you're here Christine. Oh this is a disaster! Chantal's dress ripped right up the back, one of the directors called in sick and a stage hand said he's put the finishing touches on the set but he's disappeared! He's gone. I can't find him anywhere. We can't go on without sets. It's over Christine. All over...We can't do it...We'll never"

"Don't be silly Madame," Christine said, cutting her off from her long rant of troubles "Everything will be fine. I just saw a young man finishing the sets, Chantal's dress can be fixed in only mere moments and we have nearly an hour before the curtain opens. Don't worry, everything will be fine."

Madame Amedee let out a long breath to steady herself for she was beginning to feel dreadfully lightheaded.

"Thank you Christine, I wish I could be as together as you are. Listen to be going on and on...No you're right everything will be fine."

Christine offered her a weak smile before she disappeared around the corner to bark orders at another one of the dancers.

_I wish I could be as together as you are_

"Oh Madame..." whispered Christine under her breath "If you only knew..."

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People began to file into their seats, programs in hand. The night had the potential to be a splendid one. Every audience member seemed to be in good spirits as they entered the building. They talking gaily about fashion horrors, economic troubles, work, love, and gossip and seemed to be expecting the performance to be of the best quality.

Christine walked into the theatre and scanned the room for her husband. She spotted him a few rows down sitting beside a rather large woman, with a pudgy face and a tendency to talk too much. Christine approached him and sat on his other side.

Raoul excused himself from the conversation and gave Christine a very grateful smile. She knew what he was thinking however. Raoul had suggested that they purchase a box for the performance as they could easily afford it. She remembered he had said,

"It will provide us a comfortable viewing of the performance away from the annoying voices of the prestigious upper class."

Christine, however, had refused such a thing. She had no desire to watch the performance from a box. Raoul had asked her for an explanation which she refused to give. But she had offered him the fact that the chances of them ending up sitting beside a gossiping, snobbish woman were very low.

Though it seemed that the chances were better then she had originally predicted.

"Hello Christine,"

"Good evening Raoul."

They were both encased in a silence that Christine couldn't bear to stand. She let out a breath of relief when the lights dimmed and the overture started.

Her stomach fluttered with butterflies. Even though she was not performing on that night she felt as if a part of her was being put on display in front of all those people. She had sworn that she had the expertise and experience to train Helen to be the diva, the star. She was indirectly affected by her failure or her success. She worried about her.

She worried that she would forget her stage direction, or that she would forget the turn they changed in the second act. She was afraid that her voice would crack, that she would forget her lines, that she would let her incurable nerves overwhelm her and just stand there open mouthed in the midst of the opera.

Had he worried about all those things the night _she_ had preformed _Hannibal_?

No he hadn't.

He had had complete confidence in her skill and her ability. He had known that she would shine; he had known that she would captivate the audience with her beauty and sweet tone. Christine couldn't help but feel ashamed that she didn't have the same amount of esteem with her pupil.

The curtains opened slowly on cue and Christine waited in baited breath as Helen walked onto the stage.

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The curtains drew closed in a final sweeping crescendo and Christine felt her heart burst with absolute pride. The performance had not gone without errors. Christine made a mental note to remind Cicly of her role on the stage and the place of the props. But all in all the performance had been...magnificent.

Helen had managed the role with such grace that Christine had felt small tears well in the corner of her eyes. Her notes had been spot on and she had sung with a confidence that Christine didn't know she possessed. Not only that but she hit the note at the end that she had worried about so much.

Raoul turned and smiled at her "Well done Christine. You sure know how to put on a show."

Christine gave him an appreciative smile.

They rode in the carriage side by side. Christine let her head rest upon Raoul's shoulder as it ran smoothly to their household.

They talked about the performance, about the good things about the bad things. Christine shared some of the information of the hectic preparation and they even allowed a few breaths of laughter to emit into the conversation.

Raoul closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to memorize the feeling of her hair caressing his chest; he tried to memorize the feeling of content ness. The feeling of _happiness_. It had been so long that Christine had talked to him about her thoughts, about how she actually felt about things.

Fueled by a force Raoul could not name he gently placed a hand under her chin and lifted it to meet his own. He hesitated before placing his lips stonily upon her own.

Christine allowed him to do so.

Suddenly a searing pain in her chest caused to gasp in horror and break the kiss. She grasped her chest and let in a slow rattling breath.

God, she couldn't breathe!

She raised her eyes to Raoul who was watching her with a very worried expression. His eyebrows were creased and an air of sadness hung around him because of the abrupt ending to their kiss.

"Christine...I'm sorry for being so forward...I just..."

Christine turned her head to the ground, her eyes closing tightly as another piercing pain streaked through her chest.

"Christine?" he asked worriedly as she drew a shallow breath.

"Christine are you..."

She opened her eyes and tried to speak. But before she managed to say anything her eyes rolled up to the back of her head and she collapsed in a heap on the carriage seat.

"CHRISTINE!" Raoul shouted, cradling her limp body to his own.

"STOP THE CARRIAGE!" he hollered to the driver "FOR GOD'S SAKE, STOP THE CARRIAGE! CALL A DOCTOR! DO SOMETHING!"

The carriage shrieked to a halt and Raoul kissed Christine's jaw line in a hopeless attempt to revive her.

"Christine?" he asked softly "Oh Christine...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

He cradled her limp body and rocked her to and fro, letting tears spill from his eyes and onto his cheeks.


	7. Melancholy in the Wind

A billowing landscape wiped its way across her vision. The sky was deep red, it shone and spun hypnotically. She felt herself being drawn towards it she was lifting herself to the heavens; she felt her toes leave the hard, rocky ground beneath her.

In an instant the red sky was gone and she found herself encased in blackness. She screamed of complete and utter terror, for she could no longer see her hand if she held it right in front of her eyes. She screamed louder, praying that someone would come and save her, praying that she could see the face of the man who had always saved her. But his face did not appear. She was alone and she became more and more aware of that with every moment that passed. Her screaming ceased to exist as sobs overtook her entire body. She stood encased in complete blackness. She had no knowledge of where she was, why she was there, or how she was ever going to escape from it.

Escape from her.

An odd sensation pulled from her navel. She felt as though she were free falling from the sky. If she was actually falling she couldn't say, for more blackness filed her eyes no matter were she looked. She screamed as her whole body felt as though it were beginning to unravel. Her breathing was labored, her heart was pounding and she had no idea if or when she was going to hit the ground.

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Raoul paced outside the door to his own bedroom. His hands were wringing behind his back and he chewed on his lip distractedly.

_They've been in there forever!_ he thought desperately to himself.

For at that moment his darling Christine was in there with a doctor and his young apprentice. The driver of the carriage had immediately summoned them at Raoul's yells. Raoul let the driver carry Christine up the stairs when they arrived at the house. He dared not trust his strength to do it. For what if he dropped her? He could never forgive himself for such a thing.

What happened after that however, was a blur of many emotions.

_"Monsieur de Chagny?" _

Raoul whipped his head around to face the man in front of him. His hair was a dull gray and his eyes were tired and weary, behind him stood a young boy that couldn't have been more then 19. He had bright striking blue eyes and dark black hair.

"Are you the doctor?"

The old man nodded briskly. "Where is she?" he asked, his voice oozing with the prospect of business.

Raoul muttered an incoercible sentence that was a combination of "up here" "this way" "in the bedroom" and "thank goodness you're here", and turned to run up the stairs.

Noticing his hasty state, the doctor quickened his pace.

Raoul swung the bedroom door open and fought back tears as he saw his wife lying motionless in the bed.

The doctor immediately knelt before her and placed a hand to her forehead. "What happened to her?"

Raoul shrugged his shoulders, his eyes never leaving his wife's form "I...I don't know...she just...she collapsed and I didn't know what to do. Is she ok? Will she be alright?"

The doctor turned and studied Raoul quietly. He reminded him vaguely of a young boy, asking if his parents were going to be ok. He had done many of those house calls, they never ended pleasantly. He only prayed that the same thing wouldn't happen tonight.

"I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside."

Raoul nodded quickly and slipped out the door, not wanting to interfere with the doctor's work.

That had been more that an hour ago.

"Please..." he whispered under his breath "Please let her be ok," Raoul let his eyes close and his head rest of the wall "Please god, let her be ok."

"Monsieur de Chagny?"

Raoul whipped his head around to the doorway to find the young apprentice staring back at him.

"Is she ok?" he asked quickly "Can I see her?"

"She's alive," he said walking towards her "But..."

Raoul felt his happiness dwindle as the boy let his words wander. His heart froze within his chest.

"But...But what?"

The boy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps I'm not the one that should tell you this."

Raoul's eyes widened "Tell me what?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"That you're wife is alive, but all is not well."

The old doctor appeared behind the young boy and Raoul diverted her attention to him. "What's wrong? What's wrong with her!" he demanded, his voice rising hysterically.

"Monsieur de Changy...I have some bad news..."

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Christine lay on her back in the large bed. Her eyes were fixed upon the ceiling as she thought fiercely about breathing.

It was a funny thing. Never before in her life had she ever had to actually _think_ about breathing, it was a natural thing that the body did automatically. But yet, now each breath was a battle. She had to think about the motion of breathing in, she had to concentrate as she exhaled, and she had to remember to repeat the process over and over again.

Her chest still ached with the reminiscence of the stabbing pain that had streaked through it in the carriage. But she tried not to think about her aching chest, she didn't want the pain to intensify.

Christine turned her head to face the closed door that led to the hallway. She could just vaguely make out the hushed voices of the doctor and Raoul. Oh how she wanted to see her husband! She needed his reassurance and his loving embrace. She couldn't even begin to express how it would soothe her.

The doctor hadn't stopped to explain anything to her about her condition, or why the pain had been inflicted upon her. He had merely smiled and muttered a small "I'll be right back, dear" and left the room. Christine was used to being brushed off as such, however, women usually were. She had no doubts in her mind that the only person he was meaning to tell was Raoul, for he was the man.

She had no business knowing such things.

Even if they were about her own well being.

Christine sighed and turned her attention back to the ceiling, concentrating on breathing once more.

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Raoul tried desperately to fight back his shocked tears as he listened to the doctor plunge on through his diagnosis. He couldn't speak, he couldn't make a sound, and he could hardly breathe. He felt his entire world shatter around him, the entire world built with false hopes and dreams, and most of all false happiness. There was no more pretending. They were only left with the cold hard truth and Raoul could hardly bear it.

The doctor finished speaking and Raoul cast his gaze to the floor. He struggled for words, only to feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks. His soul was too numb to realize that the tears belonged to him.

"D...Does she know?" he managed to stutter out finally.

The doctor shook his head slowly "I'll tell her now if you..."

"N...N...No," stuttered Raoul between soft sobs "I'll do it."

The doctor nodded and watched Raoul wipe his tear strained face with the back of his hand and approach the door with utmost respect.

Raoul took a deep breath and opened the door.

Christine turned her eyes towards him as the door creaked open and Raoul felt his heart ache as his eyes wandered over her skeletal form. He hadn't noticed how incredibly thin she was on a day to day basis. He wanted to rush over to her and crush her body to his own. He wanted to cry freely with her and talk her to her, to kiss her, to love her...to have her. But he just stood there.

"Christine..." he started softly, his voice breaking before he could continue.

Christine gazed upon his blood shot eyes and felt something inside her shut down. The door closed quietly behind him and Christine watched as he knelt before her and took her hands in his own.

"Oh Christine...I...I love you..." he began, not daring himself to go on. He needed to be strong, he couldn't cry.

"Raoul..." she whispered softly, running her fingers through his mop of blonde hair.

"I talked to the doctor he said that you...that you're..."

"What Raoul?"

Raoul raised his eyes upon her and fought back a choked sob.

"That you're...dying."

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Christine's heart was filled with shock as she heard him utter those words.

_That you're dying_

She didn't know why she was so shocked however. She knew that in the back of her mind that that was what was happening to her. She could see it from the way the doctor had talked to her and looked at her, how their voices had been so hushed and saddened on the other side of the doorway, and Raoul's eyes, bloodshot from tears had only confirmed what she felt she already knew.

Raoul couldn't help but yet a sob overtake his body. He wept before her and pressed a kiss to her hand. After his lips became unattached from her hand he pressed his face against it.

Christine's eyes stared blankly at the wall on the other side of Raoul.

She was dying.

It was something that she couldn't even begin to understand. It boggled her very mind, she couldn't even think about...dying. It scared her, it scared her immensely.

"It'll be ok Raoul," she muttered robotically under her breath, whenever Raoul broke down she would automatically mutter words of reassurance.

She was stilled in that moment in time. With nothing but Raoul's muffled sobs to accompany her.


End file.
